A Christmas Wish
by FlyingAboveTheClouds
Summary: All that little Sealand wants for Christmas is for Big Brother England and Mr. America to confess their love for each other and kiss, and France is determined to make the boy's wish come true. Christmas fic. USUK. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! This is part one of two of my Christmas fic! Chapter two will most likely be up before Christmas. **

**Warning: Creepy Santa!France**

**Enjoy!~**

* * *

'_*Sigh* The last world meeting before my least favorite day of the year. What's the point? We don't even talk about important issues. We just talk about the holidays and who's probably going to get wasted at America's party. Except for me. Because I know that's it's just going to be another Christmas alone-'_

"Big Brother England!"

England cringed. He'd been hoping for at least a few minutes of peace and quiet before being bothered. "Hello Peter." At this point he'd exhausted his last effort to keep Sealand away from world meetings. It wasn't worth putting up a fight anymore.

"Jerkland~ My country's heating system broke, and it's really cold. Can I stay with you?" Sealand asked.

England snorted. He wondered if Sealand would ever come to the realization that if your country has its own heating system, odds are that it's not really a country. "Yes, I suppose you can. How long will you be staying?"

Sealand thought for a moment. "Umm, Mr. Bates said that it would take about a week until it'll be fixed so... until around the 30th."

December 30th? That was...after Christmas. He'd be staying for Christmas... They'd be spending Christmas...together. "Er, Peter," England said, "I'm a little busy, do you think you could stay with Latvia?" His stomach filled with guilt. How could he be this selfish? Lying to his little brother just so that he could spend Christmas time by himself.

Sealand's expression saddened. "Oh. Okay. I'll go find Raivas. But he's going to spend Christmas with Estonia, Lithuania, Belarus, Ukraine, and Russia. I don't know them very well..."

England patted him on the head. "Well cheer up. I'm sure you'll have fun." He turned and began walking away. '_Well that's a relief. I can be alone and I won't feel bad about not spending time with Peter because Peter will be having fun with Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia...'_

Wait a minute...

HOLY SHIT, RUSSIA!?

"PETER! PETER! WAIT!" England took off back down the hallway. Luckily Sealand hadn't gotten too far. He grabbed the startled looking boy. "Listen...Peter," he panted, "You can spend Christmas with me, okay. Just us."

Sealand looked confused. "But didn't you just say that you were busy-?"

"Uh, something came up," he said quickly, "And now I'm free."

Sealand grinned, "So we'll be able to have lots of fun together?"

"Er...uh...well...y-yes...we'll have fun together."

"Yay!" Sealand cheered, "I still think you're a jerk though."

"Why am I not surprised. Anyway, I have to go to the meeting, so I'll be off-"

"I'm coming with you!"

"Fine, fine."

England made his way to the third floor where the meeting was being held, Sealand right behind him. The countries were all gathered outside of the meeting room and, as predicted, the only topic of conversation that anyone seemed to be able to discuss involved things along the lines of "Well, I'm having Christmas dinner with my boss and his family..." and "Remember last year at America's party when Belarus saw Russia talking to China and she went ape-shit on everyone? Hahaha, that was great!" or "It's so nice to see all of the children in my country so happy at this time of year!"

'_Why does everyone have to be so goddamn happy, _England thought, _Everyone's beaming like an idiot-'_

"Yo! Iggy!"

'_Speaking of idiots…'_

England growled in frustration. Couldn't a man have an internal monologue in peace?! "What is it, America?" he tried his best to keep his tone calm, but a sliver of irritation nevertheless made its way into his voice. America, being America, didn't seem to care or even notice.

"Tonight's gonna be totally great, right?!"

England caught America's eyes for just a fleeting moment. He turned his head away, slowly so as to not make it obvious. There was something about those smiling, deep blue eyes that made nervous energy bubble up uncomfortably inside his stomach. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like "Meh." America was remarkably oblivious to the indifference of this response; "I know, right?! You better be there." His usual jaunty grin suddenly disappeared. "Uh...hey, England?"

England was taken aback by the sudden change in tone. "Y-yes?"

America was silent for a few seconds as if searching for the words to express what he had to say. After an agonizingly long pause, America finally said, "Uh...did you do something with your hair?"

"...W-what?" A wave of annoyance hit England and the nervous energy seemed to evaporate. What the hell?! What kind of question was that?! "No, I didn't," he huffed, "Now sod off."

America held up his hands, as if surrendering. "Fine, fine. See you later." He backed away a few feet and turned around, walking away. England watched until the American disappeared at the end of the hallway. England sighed. He hadn't expected America to immediately leave. He had actually sort of _wanted_ to talk to America. There was just something about talking to him that made England's troubles melt away. That voice. Those cerulean eyes. That grin; that big, stupid grin full of perfect, white teeth.

So why did England always push him away? It wasn't really something that he could even understand himself. Sometimes it just seemed that the venomous words forced their way through his lips. Almost like a defense mechanism; it was automatic. Whenever America showed up he went into fight-or-flight mode. Except there was no option for "flight". It was always "fight", and words were his weapon. England could probably write 70,000 words about how much he hated America and not mean a single one of them.

"Hey Jerk!"

'_Why doesn't America just understand?! But...understand what? Ugh, I can't even think straight!'_

"Jerkland!"

'_Why can't I stop thinking about this? It's no big deal, I'll just apologize to him later...'_

"Hey!"

'_Wait a minute, there's no way in hell I'm apologizing to him! This is all his fault!...what's his fault? I don't know...'_

"Britain!" Sealand tugged hard at England's sleeve.

England jumped in surprise. "What, Peter?!" he snapped.

"Are you going?"

"Going where? The meeting?"

"No, America's Christmas party!"

England realized that he hadn't even thought about the matter. "Erm, I haven't decided yet," England said, "Why do you ask?"

"Mr. America just really seemed to want you to be there," Sealand replied, smiling innocently, "And he always stays at your house when there's a world meeting in your country."

"That's just a courtesy thing!" England snapped, "Plenty of other countries have stayed at my house before, and it's merely for business purposes!"

"But only Mr. America stays at your house when there's a _world meeting_," Sealand said, "And I heard that you always stay at America's house when there's a world meeting in _his_ country."

"I'm certainly not the only person who stays at America's house during world meetings! And who the hell told you _that_-?"

"And the Revolutionary War still makes you sad even though none of the people in your country care anymo-" Sealand stopped talking, seeing England's face darken. He might have gone too far.

"Peter," England's tone was more melancholic than angry, "Things...have changed between America and I...a lot. It's been over two hundred years...we've fought in wars against each other and we've fought in wars together...it's a weird situation. I'd rather not talk about it."

Sealand looked down at his feet. "Oh. I'm sorry..."

England patted him on the shoulder. "That's all right, lad. Why don't you go find Australia and see what he's doing or chat with Ireland or something."

Sealand nodded, looking a bit dejected, and plodded off in the same direction that America had left in just a few minutes earlier. England slumped down onto a bench. Just a minute to himself before the meeting; that's all he asked for.

* * *

"Hey, Al. Did you give the thing to England?"

"Eh? Oh hey, Mattie! Nah, I chickened out."

"Oh, really? That's too bad. What happened?"

"I don't know. I was gonna give it to him, but he just didn't seem in the mood for anything. I ended up asking him if he did anything with his hair. Pretty dumb, right?"

"No!...well actually, yeah, a little. But hey, you'll have another chance. Is England going to your party?"

"I actually don't know. I hope he does. It's been a while since I've had a normal conversation with him."

"England seems a little lonely sometimes. Have you outright asked him to go to your party?"

"Uh, not really. I mentioned that I wanted him to be there, but then I changed the topic. He didn't say anything about it."

"Maybe he's nervous."

"Dude, it's the British Empire we're talkin' about, not some pre-teen girl."

"Yeah...but England acts different around you."

"Different? How?"

"I don't know, just...different."

"Whatever...Hey, the meeting's going to start soon."

"Yeah. We should make sure we have everything we need. Do you have your papers for your presentation about AIDS?"

"Oh! Shit!"

"Al, you're hopeless."

* * *

England glanced at his watch. The meeting would start in thirteen minutes. Thirteen precious minutes to himself. He let his head fell back to release the strain on his neck. He closed his eyes and respired slowly, trying to relax himself. He was sick of feeling so emotionally tired. No, not tired, _exhausted_.

"Bonjour Angleterre!~"

England's eyelids shot open. Was a moment's peace _really_ too much to ask for? "What do _you_ want, frog?"

"What, I cannot say hello? Now, what seems to be the problem, mon ami? This wouldn't 'appen to 'ave anything to do with Amerique, would it?"

"No!" England snapped.

"Well, what is the problem then?" France asked.

"Uh...Sealand ended up staying at my house for Christmas, and, you know, he's a kid...and, uh, I'm not sure what I should get him as a gift." It wasn't a complete lie. This was indeed a problem that he would have to think about.

"Well, I would be more than 'appy to 'elp~" France said.

England raised an eyebrow, "What's the catch?"

France mocked offense, "I am 'urt, Angleterre! You think that I am that selfish?"

England looked suspicious, "How would you even help with that-?"

"But you know, it _would_ be magnifique if I got my AAA rating back from Moody's Investors Service~"

Of course. He knew there had to be _some_ catch. England waved his hand, "Fine, I'll see what I can do." If there was an opportunity to reduce his growing list of problems, he'd take it.

"Honhonhon! Merci, Angleterre! I will take care of everything!~ Now where is little Sealand?"

"Sealand?"

"Well, of course. If I am to figure out what he wants, I would have to talk to 'im first, non?"

"I suppose. You can talk to him after the meeting, I guess."

* * *

Sealand strolled through the empty hallway. Through the walls he could unmistakably recognize that sounds of a meeting in progress; yelling, shouting, scuffling, squabbling. He usually intruded in on the meetings, sitting in the corner and amusing himself by watching the hot-headed adults fight over even the silliest issues. But he hadn't been able to muster up the courage to enter the meeting room that day. He was overwhelmed by guilt; a feeling somewhat foreign for a child his age. The way his older brother's eyes seemed to lose their life; it was saddening.

"Honhonhon, hello there, little boy!~"

Sealand jumped. Out of nowhere a man with a large, white beard emerged wearing a red suit, boots, and a red hat with a small white ball at the end of it. This man was actually France, of course, though Sealand did not recognize him.

Sealand giggled, "Who are you?"

"I am Père Noël, of course!" France said.

"Who?"

"Uh, Santa Claus. I am Santa Claus."

Sealand's eyes lit up, "Really? Santa Claus?"

"Oui!~ I am really Santa Claus!~"

Sealand looked at him curiously, "Hmmm...prove it."

France hadn't been prepared for that. "Er...'ow can I prove it?~"

Sealand thought about his response carefully, "Um...what's one thing that my older brother England is terrible at?"

"Honhonhon, that is easy!~ Cooking, of course!" France said.

Sealand looked flabbergasted, "Wow! How did you know!?"

"Because I am Santa Claus!" said France, "So...are you convinced?"

"Hmm...Who's my best friend?"

"Latvia."

"What's my favorite color?"

"Blue."

"What are my other siblings' names besides England?"

"Ireland, Northern Ireland, Scotland, and Wales."

This line of questioning continued for five or so minutes. France answered each question with ease, the most difficult of these questions being "What's Scotland's favorite alcoholic drink?" France was surprised when he was correct in saying "He doesn't mind as long as he can get wasted."

"Okay, do you believe me now?" France asked, smiling through gritted teeth.

"Hmm...yup! You're really Santa Claus!" Sealand said excitedly.

"Great!~" France exclaimed. Finally, progress. He spotted a chair nearby and pulled it over, sitting himself down on it. He patted his lap. "Well Peter, why don't you sit on Santa's lap and tell me what you want for Christmas!~"

Sealand immediately complied, jumping up into the man's lap. He was grinning ear to ear.

"Now, tell me, Peter," France said, "What do you want more than anything else in the world for Christmas?"

Sealand looked unsure. "Umm...hmm...it can be _anything_?"

"Oui! Anything!"

France knew the answer was probably going to be something ridiculous, but he was okay with that as long as he got his triple-A rating back. If it wasn't independence from England it would probably be whatever it is that pre-teen boys want; action figures, computer games, candy, etc. Probably whatever randomly popped into his mind.

But Sealand still looked indecisive.

"Come on, there must be _something _that you want," France prodded, "Just think. What does your heart desire more than anything?"

"Um...there _is _something..." Sealand said.

"Yes?"

"But it's dumb."

"That's okay!" France assured him, "Santa says and does dumb things all the time!"

"Uh, okay," Sealand smiled, "What I really want more than anything is for Big Brother England and Mr. America to kiss."

France stared. He hadn't seen that one coming.

Sealand looked away, "I knew you were going to think it's dumb..."

"Non! It is fantastique!" France exclaimed.

"Really?"

"Really! I think that it's wonderful that you can see the love between them!"

"You think that they love each other, too?" Sealand asked, hopeful.

"Why, of course! I think Amerique and Angleterre have been in love with each other for a very long time! It's just that neither wants to admit it!"

"Oh, I'm so glad!" Sealand said, "But..."

"Hmm, what is it?" France asked.

"What if they just like each other as friends or in a brother kind of way?"

France sighed. "You know, Peter. Angleterre used to think that Amerique was like a little brother to him, and Amerique thought that Angleterre was like his big brother. But then Amerique grew up very quickly... and he decided that it wasn't what he wanted, so he went to war with Angleterre. After the war, after Amerique gained his independence, Angleterre was very sad. He ended up hating Amerique."

Sealand's eyes went wide, "England hated Mr. America?!"

"Oui, he did. He went to war with him again. It must have been around the 1870's that they started being able to even hold a conversation with one another."

"But...then how do you go from hating someone to being in love with someone?" Sealand asked.

"Angleterre and Amerique tried to repair their relationship. They knew it would never be the same, but they were two very strong countries; they knew it would be better to become friends rather than continue on as enemies."

"And...they fell in love?"

"Oui. They fell in love."

"But how?" Sealand asked, "How do you fall in love with someone? Does it just...happen?"

France chuckled, "Well, Peter...that's a question that not even Santa can answer. L'amour works in strange ways."

"Well, when did they fall in love?" Sealand asked.

"Hmm. That is hard to say since neither of them has ever been willing to admit it. But I think that no matter how long they've been in love...it hurts them both to have to keep it to themselves."

"So, are they not going to admit it?"

"They'll admit it," France said, "They just need a little...motivation."

Sealand grinned, "So my wish will come true?"

France nodded, smiling. "Oui. Don't you worry Peter...Santa will make sure of it."

"You promise?"

"Oui, I promise."

Sealand looked delighted. France was about to open his mouth to conclude the conversation and depart when Sealand suddenly asked, "Hey, Santa...are _you_ in love with anyone?"

For the first time he could remember, France was completely and utterly flustered. "Er...Santa was in love a very long time ago...with a beautiful women named Jeanne. Or, Joan, as you would say. But...Jeanne died. Santa has tried to find l'amour with others. But..." France dropped the 3rd-person references to himself, "I 'ave decided that I should not love another until I can forget Jeanne. There's someone that I 'ave in mind. But, at least for the time being, he deserves someone better than me. When you love someone you should love them with all your heart, non?"

Sealand nodded slowly, "Yeah...I guess."

"The meeting is almost over. Why don't you go wait for your older brothers?" France said.

"Okay! Bye, Santa!" Sealand hopped up and skipped off towards the direction of the meeting room. The only sounds from the room were short, somewhat frustrated, quips. This meant that the meeting had reached the point where everyone was awkwardly trying to gather their things to leave or, on a bad day, the host country would be trying to clean the blood off the floor.

France set of towards the bathroom. He'd have to change out of the ridiculous Santa suit. '_What a cute little kid_,' he thought, '_It's 'ard to believe that he is related to Angleterre.'_

* * *

England smoothed his hair out. That had certainly been a...lively meeting. He just hoped that the hotel manager wouldn't charge them for the broken chair. Now, he just had to find the stupid frog and then...talk to America? No. Why did he keep thinking of America?

'_Come on, Arthur. Just think of something else. What were you worrying about before? Something about Peter, right? Then you started thinking about...America'_

"Ugh!" he groaned. He slammed his head against the wall. He was inundated with unwanted pictures of America; He couldn't stop picturing America. He couldn't stop hearing America's voice. He couldn't stop repeating the name in his thoughts; America, America, America, America, America-

"You know Angleterre, the hotel staff are already très angry, maybe you shouldn't be banging your head against the wa-"

"Belt up," England snapped, "...Well?"

France smirked, "Well _what_?"

"Well, what did Peter say?" England asked, visibly annoyed.

"Hmmmm, I'm not telling you~"

"What the hell!? I told you that I would help you get your AAA rating back if-!"

"Oh, I don't care about the rating anymore~" France said, smirking.

"Well then what do you want?!"

"Hmm...I want you to go to Amerique's party~"

"America's p-party?!" England spluttered, "Why?!"

"I'll tell you later~ Also I want you to personally tell Amerique that you are going."

"B-but, w-why...I...CAN'T YOU JUST TELL ME?!"

"No~"

"Fu-!"

"Oh, look! There's Amerique!" France cleared his throat and, doing his best impression of England, shouted, "America!"

America whipped his head around, surprised. France made a break for it before England could react.

"Hey, England, was that you? You sound kinda weird."

"U-uh, m-must've been something stuck in my throat, sorry," England stuttered. He let out an extremely fake sounding cough.

"Um...yeah...anyway, what do you want?" America asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You, um, called me over here..."

"Oh, right! I-I just w-wanted to tell you that I'll, uh...I'll be at your party."

America beamed. "Really?"

"Y-yes. Really..." England smiled sheepishly.

They caught each others' eyes and stared.

'_Wow...America's eyes...and that smile...'_

'_Wow...England kinda looks like he's going to piss himself.'_

America cleared his throat. "Uh...yeah...see you later, dude."

"Y-yeah. Bye..."

'_Ugh. Why is America acting so awkward? I can never tell what the hell he's thinking...trying to figure out what he's thinking is like trying to figure out what a statue is thinking...a retarded statue that smiles a lot.'_

* * *

**Explanatory Notes:**

**- The Mr. Bates that Sealand is referring to is Paddy Roy Bates, the founder of the Principality of Sealand. Although I'm guessing that about 95% of the people reading this have looked at the Wikipedia page for Sealand and already know about the Bates family. **

**- France's AAA rating – France recently lost its AAA rating from Moody's Investor's Service due to its debt.**

**- Père Noël – Basically, the French Santa Claus. **

**- Most people probably already know this, but just as a history refresher; relations between America and England were SUPER AWKWARD following the Revolutionary War and far into the 19****th**** century. My favorite example of this is when a full scale war almost broke out between them in 1859 when an American man shot a pig that had showed up in his yard that turned out to belong to a Englishman who lived in British territory close by in Canada. It started with the two men debating about how much the American should pay to replace the pig and somehow rapidly escalated into both the Americans and British sending out GODDAMN WARSHIPS. However, no actual fighting occurred and everyone seemed to forget about the incident a few months later. It's still hilarious, though. **

* * *

**Anyway, _to be continued..._  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ugh. I really need to stop promising a deadline for posting new chapters, because I when I do that I never fail to miss it. -_- Anyway, sorry for missing the deadline by…a lot. That took waaaay longer than I anticipated. **

**Franada and mentions of PruAus/PruHun in this chapter  
**

**Please review~**

* * *

"You'll behave won't you?" England stood in the doorway of his hotel room, hesitant to leave Sealand behind.

"Of course, Jerkland! I always behave!~" the boy chirped.

"I was actually talking to Scotland, Peter, but that's good to know."

Scotland responded by lighting up his fourth cigarette of the hour and flopping down in a chair in the back corner of the room. "'e'll be fine ya sissy, get goin'."

"Alright, fine. Just take good care of him. And open the damn window if you're going to smoke," England said.

"I thought you were leavin'," Scotland growled. "Go on to yer party. Christ, ya act like such a pansy.

"But-"

"Yeah, go to the party, England!~" Sealand interjected, "You should have fun with someone you like~"

Scotland gave the boy a funny look but chose not to investigate whatever the hell it was that Sealand was talking about. England, slightly miffed, proceeded to exit the room with one last irritable "Goodbye."

America's Christmas parties were extravagant events. Not extravagant as in lavish or fancy, more extravagant as in lots of booze, lots of colorful lights, and, towards the end of the night, lots of bizarre, drunken conversations that could just as easily be the ramblings of two meth addicts after watching a Syfy channel original movie. It seemed like it should all be good fun, but England didn't like parties much; too many people, too much noise, hardly enough room to breathe. To make things worse, most countries had learned by then to keep someone on guard to make sure England didn't go anywhere near the alcohol.

America's house was located in a town that was about a half hour's drive from New York City. However, despite its close proximity to the city that never sleeps, it was actually a quiet, more rural place. Like most countries' houses, America's house was very large. It stood out from the other houses in the area, especially on that particular night. It lit up the street, which was otherwise cloaked in darkness, and the noise disrupted what had previously been silence (with the exception of the sound of an occasional stray car).

England approached the front door, tentatively knocking on it. The door soon burst open. England hardly had the chance to say "Hello Amer-" before he was grabbed and pulled into the entryway.

"Hey, Iggy!" America said loudly, trying to project his voice over the music. "What's goin' on?!" It appeared most countries had already arrived; they were all dancing, talking, and joking. Some even appeared to have gotten a hold of some booze already.

"Uh, not much," England replied. "America, I would...I would really like to talk to you."

"WHAT?! I CAN'T HEAR YA!"

"I SAID-!"

Someone tapped on America's shoulder, prompting America to hold up his hand, shushing England. "Hold on a sec, Iggs! I'll be right back!" he said before disappearing into the crowd of people.

England rubbed his temples, sighing. Well, there went his chance. He glanced towards the door. Would it be easier to just leave now? At least he wouldn't have to put up with the obnoxiously loud music for however long it took America to return in addition to however long it took England to say what he wanted to say. God knew how long either of those could take. America would probably forget that he had even said a word to England and spend the rest of the night partying until he suddenly remembered that the Briton was there. England, on the other hand, if given the chance to talk to America, would probably struggle to form a single word and then America would say something stupid...then England would yell at America...and America would try to apologize...and then say something stupid again...

'I might as well leave, England thought, It's silly to even think that...America...No! I'll tell him! I'll just try to relax until I can finally talk to him and then...well I guess it depends on how he reacts.' England pushed his way through the crowd and slipped into the kitchen. To his relief it was empty. It muffled the sound of the music as well, giving him some peace and quiet. He lay his head down on the kitchen counter. He took a moment to register his emotions. What did he feel? Anxiety. Loneliness. Stress. Frustration. Vexation. Anger at nobody in particular.

He felt a sudden need for fresh air. Not wanting to have to go back through the crowd, he looked for a window. Unfortunately, the only windows were inconveniently located above the counter.

England put a knee up on the counter and hoisted himself up onto it. He pulled open the window and stuck his head out, taking a deep breath. There was a slight, pleasant breeze that cooled his face. He respired slowly, savoring the sweet air.

"Kesesese. What the hell are you doing?"

England jumped in surprise, painfully hitting the back of his neck on the top of the window. He scrambled to get off of the counter.

"Prussia! What are you doing?!" England demanded.

"Hey, I was just getting some more beer out of the fridge, you're the one who had half your body hanging out of the window," Prussia pointed out.

England quickly regained his composure, "Well, I just needed a bit of air and didn't like the idea of having to put up with that stupid music for the fifteen seconds that it would take to get to the front door. Now if you'll excuse me, I was just thinking of leaving." He strode past Prussia, annoyed.

Prussia looked worried at this. "Wait!" He threw himself in front of the exit, blocking England. "Why are you leaving so soon? You should go, uh...talk to people!"

"Why would I want to talk to people? I have to deal with them enough. Now please move out of the way."

"B-but, you haven't tried any of the food!" Prussia said.

"I'm not hungry! Move!" The thoroughly pissed off Brit looked just about ready to throttle the German. Prussia was getting nervous. He didn't want to get into a fight, but he didn't want to let down Francis either.

"If I, uh, get America to talk to you will you stay?"

England's furious expression was replaced with an embarrassed one. "W-why would I want to talk to that moron?"

"Uh..." Prussia combed his mind for a good excuse. He didn't want England to figure out what he was trying to do. "You were talking to him a few minutes ago, weren't you? And then America walked away?"

"Yes...how did you know that?" England eyed him, suspicious.

"Francis mentioned it," Prussia stated confidently. It _was _the truth.

"Er...fine," England relented. Prussia moved away from the door. As soon as he did so, England bolted from the room.

* * *

Spain stood on his toes, trying to see over various countries' heads. Spotting a head of long, golden locks in the corner, he weaved through the guests over to his friend. Spain saw that France was alone and became confused, "¿Dónde están Gilbert y Inglaterra?"

"Stupid Gilly let Angleterre get away," France grumbled.

"Oh," Spain said, "Do you think he left?"

"He better not 'ave!" France said, "Gilly's looking for Amerique, he better be back soon..."

"Okay..." Spain went quiet for a few seconds, "Uh...how are we going to set them up?"

"Well..." France began, "I 'aven't really thought about that. Should we go cliché? There must be some mistletoe around here _somewhere_. It _is _a Christmas party..."

"Or we could just lock them in América's bedroom and see what happens~" Spain suggested.

"Non! That will never work!"

"But it's easier..." Spain pouted.

"Go get some mistletoe!"

"Alright~"

Just as Spain departed, Prussia appeared.

"Hey, Francey-pants! I talked to America!"

"Oh? What did he say?" France asked.

"Uh, he was having a push-up contest with Mexico so I don't think he was really listening but I told him that he should go talk to England und he gave me a thumbs-up, so I guess he heard me."

France face-palmed. '_Ugh! Can Gilly and Tonio not do ANYTHING right?! I guess if you want something done right, you better do it yourself. I have to; I promised Angleterre's little brother.'_

"Francis! I found some mistletoe!~" Spain returned, proudly displaying the parasitic plant in his hand. France, not very impressed with this, simply stomped off, ignoring the Spaniard.

"Aw...What did I do wrong?"

Prussia patted Spain on the shoulder. "Don't take it personally, Tonio. C'mon, let's get some beer."

"Okay..." Spain frowned. "Do you want some mistletoe?"

"Kesesese. Sure, maybe I can use it to score a date with Austria...or Hungary, I haven't decided yet, kesesese."

"Hooray! ¡Soy útil! So, what do you think?"

"What do I think about what? About Austria und Hungary? I told you, I haven't decided yet," Prussia said.

"No, I mean about Francis trying to get América and Inglaterra together," explained Spain.

"Eh. I don't know," Prussia said, "I guess Francey-pants is doing a good thing. It's almost painful to watch America and England hopelessly dancing around it. Why don't those two just get a room und make-out or something, I mean _really_; it's obvious that they're in love."

Spain's eyes went wide as if he'd just heard this for the very first time, "América and Inglaterra are in love!?"

Prussia gave him a look. "What-? You didn't-? Of course, why else would Francis be trying to set them up?!"

Spain shrugged, "I don't know. I thought maybe Francis was just trying to get them to have sex so he could film it and sell it to Hungary or something."

"Kesesese. Oh, Tonio. You're funny, you know that?...uh, Hungary doesn't really buy that kind of thing, does she?"

"Oh, sí, she does! I heard her talking to Japan about it. I think he was selling her a doh...dow...douji- ..dowji-"

"Doujinshi?"

"Sí! That!~"

"Uh...maybe I'll go with Austria then...but, then again...Hungary _is _pretty hot..."

"I like Austria~ Hungary scares me because she has that frying pan..."

"Hmm, you're right. I'll try Austria first. Can you go find him und hang that mistletoe up near him?"

"Sí! Right on it!"

* * *

France poked his head into another room. _'Ack! Angleterre isn't here either. If he left, I swear I'll kick Gilly's ass!' _He heard movement somewhere behind him, like someone was climbing the stairs behind him. He snapped his gaze back to the hall, catching a glimpse dark blond hair before it disappeared at the top of the stairs. _'Aw, what is mon petit Canadien doing? He did not even say hello to moi! And he was all alone...'_ A nasty smile grew on France's face, '_Honhonhon, maybe I should fix that~'_Just as he was about to make his merry way up the stairs, something else caught his eye; more blond hair. England was walking off in the opposite direction. France bit his lip, feeling conflicted. This was what he had been waiting for, but...

'_Ugh! I can't decide! I can talk to Angleterre, or I can talk to Canada. I am sure Canada will still be there, I mean...he's probably staying later than everyone else, since it /is/ his brother's house...'_

France started reluctantly walking away from the stairs.

'_Ack! Who am I kidding?! I just cannot resist~ Honhonhon~'_

France ascended the stairs to the second floor, his pervert smile shining bright. The stairs lead up to a small, hexagonal shaped room. Canada stood near the wall, appearing to be looking out the window. Hearing the footsteps behind him, the Canadian turned around. "Oh! France! Hi...I didn't know you were here..."

"Call me 'Francis', mon cher~ So, what are you doing up here all alone?" France asked.

"Oh. I don't know. It's too noisy," mumbled Canada.

"Aw, well would you mind if I kept you company?" France asked, smiling.

Canada returned the smile. "No, not at all."

France moved a bit closer to him. "So, tell me, 'ow 'ave you been feeling, Mathieu?"

"Um, fine, I guess. I haven't gotten much sleep lately, though."

France gave him a concerned look. "Why is that, mon ami?"

"I'm not sure. I've been a little stressed. Maybe that's why." He looked down at his feet as he spoke.

France reached out and lifted up the younger man's chin. "Cheer up, Mathieu. You'll be fine~"

Canada blushed at the contact from France's hand. He was a little taken aback by the sudden consolation. "Um...alright. Thanks Francis."

France retracted his hand and placed it back at his side. "So, what else 'ave you been up to?"

Canada shrugged. "Not much. I had dinner at Japan's house a few weeks ago. I haven't done all that much since then. I didn't even really want to go to this party, but Al really wanted me to be here. He hasn't said one word to me since I got here, though."

France rolled his eyes. "Stupid Amerique. He's ignoring Angleterre too. He is ruining my plan!"

Canada chuckled, "You have a plan?"

"Oui! I was trying to get them together, but they haven't talked since Angleterre arrived. Mon dieu! It's like they're trying to avoid each other!" France exclaimed.

"Yeah. They're both really stubborn," Canada agreed. "Al told me at the world meeting that he tried to give some flowers that he bought to England, but he got too nervous."

France looked intrigued. "Flowers?"

"Yeah. He bought some flowers, and he was all excited, saying that he was going to give them to England, but-"

"Does he still have them?" France interrupted.

"Um...I think they're in his room. Why-?"

France made a bee-line for America's bedroom. Canada watched, somewhat uncomfortably. When France returned, he was holding the same flowers that America had shown Canada earlier that day.

France examined the flowers carefully. "Hmm...red chrysanthemums? Stupid American. Doesn't he know that in Europe, chrysanthemums mean death? Oh well, at least he got an odd number of flowers." He smoothed out some of the petals. "Why are they all so...untidy?"

"Al put them in his suit case," Canada laughed.

"And 'ere I thought that Amerique would be able to win Angleterre's heart on his own... Anyway, I'm going to go spread l'amour. Go 'ave some fun, Mathieu~" France blew the Canadian a kiss and left. Canada was thankful that no one was there to see how flustered the gesture made him.

* * *

"And so then, the Japanese golfer says- SHIT!" America yelled in surprise as two arms wrapped around his waist and tugged him backwards roughly. When his feet were placed back on the ground, he whipped around to face his assailant. "Hey! What gives, man?! I didn't get to finish telling my joke!"

"What, I cannot just 'ave a conversation with my favorite Américain?" France winked at him.

"But my joke..." America pouted.

"Whatever," France groaned. He lifted the chrysanthemums up so that they were at America's eye level. "So, who gave you these?" he asked, fully knowing what the answer would be.

America looked away, averting his eyes. "I, uh...actually got those for someone else..."

"And who would that be?" France asked, smirking.

"You don't need to know," America grumbled, sucking his cheek in to form an expression that made him look hilariously like a petulant child.

"Ooh, but I WANT to know!" France insisted.

"Maybe I don't want you to know..."

France's eye twitched in annoyance. He was getting rather tired of having to convince people. "Well, in that case, maybe I'll go spend some time with Canada~ Honhonhon~" He put on the best (worst?) rape face that he could muster.

"WAIT! ENGLAND! IT'S ENGLAND!"

France looked positively gleeful. "Très bien~ That's what I thought~ So, when are you planning on giving these to Angleterre?"

"I was gonna give them to him at the world meeting but I didn't! Give me those!" He lunged forward, trying to grab the flowers, but France jumped back.

"Why didn't you give them to him?"

"I forgot to! Why are you so friggin' interested in those flowers?!"

France laughed, "Silly Amerique!~ I am not interested in the flowers! I'm much more interested in what's going on between you and Angleterre~"

America's face reddened. "What do you mean what's going on between me and Anglet- I mean, England?"

"Oh, I don't know. I was just wondering why you would be giving such a gift to someone...you know, like _Angleterre_," France said.

"What do you mean, someone _like _England?" America's eyes narrowed.

"Well, he isn't exactly the most pleasant country in Europe, now is he?" France said. His lips curled into a sly mug; now he was getting somewhere.

"What are you saying about him?" America asked, looking almost offended by the assertion that England might be less than perfect.

"I would 'ave thought that _you _would be in love with someone with more energy; someone more like you. Like Australia or maybe Ireland."

"No way, man! I love England!" America went pale when he realized what he'd just said.

"HA! I knew it!" France cheered. "Now, tell me the _real _reason that you didn't give these to Angleterre?"

"I don't know," America said, "It was right before the meeting, and it just didn't seem like the right time. I was going to talk to him after but he suddenly told me that he was coming here for the party and then it got all awkward."

France took America's hand and placed the bouquet in his palm. "I think Angleterre's been lonely for longer than 'e can 'andle. You could probably fix that."

"I-uh...okay..." America stuttered.

France firmly placed his hand on the American's shoulder. "Non! If you are going to do this, you should not _agree_ to it; you should _want _to do it."

"I do! I want to! I have for a long time!"

"Oh, it's alright. If you don't want to, _I _can go spend time with Angleterre~"

"HELL NO! England's mine!" America sped off, fleeing into the next room.

France laughed. '_Reverse psychology works so well on Americans~'_

America ran wildly through the house, peaking into every room, trying to find the blond-haired European nation. Several countries tried to stop him to chat, but he ignored them. '_Gah! Where did England go?!'_ He pulled out his cell phone and quickly sent a text message to the older country; _'Where r u?'_

He dared not take his eyes of the phone out of fear that even blinking would somehow cause him to miss an incoming text. After an agonizingly long seven or eight seconds, the phone buzzed, indicating that England had replied.

_'Patio. Why?'_

America smiled. It was funny to him that England couldn't bring himself to just use "y" as shorthand for "why". He didn't bother replying, and instead made his way to the door that lead outside to the patio. It was a sliding glass door, and through it, he could see England, his back turned to him. As soon as America opened the door, he was hit with a blast of cold air. England turned his head when he heard the metal hinges of the door creaking.

"Holy shit, dude. Why are you out here? It's fucking freezing!"

England smiled weakly. "I just wanted to be away from all the noise."

"Well, come inside, man. Your face is all red." America opened the door back up. He had one foot in the house and one out, looking over his shoulder and waiting for England's response. He tried his best to use his body to conceal the flowers, but it had already probably become obvious to England that he was holding something. England silently complied, following America inside.

America slid the door closed. England watched him with a look of indifference. America turned to him. "So..."

England chuckled. "I thought you said that you would be back in a second. I was waiting for you, you id-"

England stopped talking. America had his arm outstretched. In his hand, he clutched a bouquet of flowers. England tried to think of an appropriate response, but couldn't. His brain couldn't even really register what America was doing.

"For...me?" England asked.

America nodded. "Yeah, for you."

England tentatively took the flowers. He let his gaze rest on them; he was too nervous to meet America's eyes. He stroked the petals of one of the flowers. "Hmm... Chrysanthemums?...You know, in the Victorian language of flowers, red chrysanthemums mean 'I love'."

"Y-yeah," America said, "I was gonna get you roses but they made me think of France so I was like 'nah'-"

America blushed furiously when England's arms snaked around his neck, pulling their bodies closer together.

"Alfred, I know you probably think I hate you," England rested his head on America's shoulder. "But I...I don't..."

America could've laughed, were he not touched by this confession; England looked as if it had been physically painful for him to just to articulate those words.

"Heh. You've never been much of a hugging kinda guy, Iggy."

"Shut it, fatty."

"Suck it, limey."

England sighed, relinquishing the hug so that he could take America's hands. "America, why do we do this?"

"Eh? Do what?"

"Why are we always bickering and at each others' throats? Why do we always pretend like we don't...well, care about each other?"

America thought about what England had said. "At each others' throat" pretty much summed up their relationship. For as long as they had known each other, it had been that way. When he was England's colony he'd hated all of the "dumb" rules he'd have to follow. He'd complain for hours to anyone who would listen that England was "unfair" and "oppressing his freedom". Then there was the war...and the other war. Then, there was that other time they almost went to war. And a whole slew of awkward meetings throughout the 1800's that usually ended in yelling and screaming. Even long after their governments had patched things up, and 'America' and 'England' had become close allies, Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland had come to except that it would never be the same between them. It was a quirky relationship. They'd spent more than a man's lifetime despising each other and more than a man's lifetime somehow falling in love.

"Because we're dumb," America concluded. "But...let's not do that anymore."

England smiled. "Yeah...let's not do that." England cupped America's cheek endearingly with his hand. "Oh, and thank you for the flowers," he murmured, "They're lovely."

"Heh, you're welcome," America said.

They closed the distance between their mouths, their lips pressed together in a sweet kiss. England moaned contentedly; America's lips were surprisingly warm and soft. Feeling the American's strong arms firmly entwined around his lower back, he gave his muscles a break, relaxing in the younger man's lock. They stayed like that until their lungs screamed for air and reluctantly broke apart, breathing heavily.

"I love you, Alfred."

"I love you too, dude." America pressed another quick kiss to England's forehead. "Hey, you've been all by yourself for the entire party, why don't we go have fun with everyone else? I don't care if you don't think it'll be fun; I'll make you have fun, so come on."

"I don't really-"

"But, Artiiiiieee!"

"Oh, fine," England relented.

They exited the hallway, hand in hand, looking absolutely ecstatic. Although, no one was quite as ecstatic that night as a certain Frenchman who was crouched on the ground outside, peering in through the window.

France grinned victoriously at the screen if his phone; on it was a clear shot of England and America with their lips locked. "Honhonhon~ This is perfect~ Now I just have to go inside and print this picture out!" France walked proudly towards the door. He grabbed the handle and tried to open it. His feeling of elation was instantly crushed when it failed to open.

"Uh...no problem, I'll just use the front door..."

France made his way around to the front of the house. He climbed the steps to the porch. When he reached the door, he tried opening it- nothing. "Merde! Did Amerique lock the door or something?!" Just as he said this, a few snowflakes began streaking down from the sky.

"Oh, this isn't good..." He started hitting rapidly hitting the window with his fist. "Let me in! Let me in! Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!" Relief washed over him when he saw Spain on the side of the room opposite the window staring at him curiously. "Oh, merci Tonio!" He gestured hurriedly for Spain to come closer. It took Spain a few seconds to realize that his friend wanted him to approach the window. Spain walked towards the window. He pointed in the direction of the door as if asking if he should open it. France nodded vigorously; the sooner he got out of the freezing cold, the better.

But, suddenly, someone, namely Prussia, tapped Spain on the shoulder. Spain was immediately distracted from his task.

"What? Tonio! What are you doing?!" France yelled, though he knew Spain would not be able to hear him.

Prussia appeared to be laughing. He told something to Spain. Spain laughed and followed Prussia away from the window.

"Non! Gilly, you stupid imbecile! Come back!" France sobbed, pounding the window. The snow was picking up.

But, all in all, it was a wonderful night for everyone...except for France.

* * *

Sealand flipped the page in his comic book. He tried to focus on the speech bubbles and colorful illustrations, but he found that he just wasn't able to concentrate. He closed the book and set it aside on the night stand, sighing with boredom. He lay down on his stomach and stretched his limbs out; there was plenty of room, since it was a double bed. Sealand normally had to sleep in the small, uncomfortable single bed in his room at his country/abandoned fort, but luckily for him, all of America's guest bedrooms had the large, comfy double beds that Sealand liked (mostly because it made him feel more grown up).

Sealand had been surprised, albeit somewhat hopeful, when England had failed to return to the hotel the previous night. Just a few hours prior, England had finally returned to the hotel. He'd looked unusually happy while he was telling Sealand that they would be staying at America's house for Christmas. By then, it was after dinner time. Almost as soon as they arrived, England had sent Sealand to his guest room.

There was a knock at the door, allowing Sealand a momentary vacation from his boredom. "Come in!~" Sealand called. He secretly hoped that it was America and not England. Maybe America would bring him some food...

The person who entered the room was, indeed, a blond, though not the blond he expected. "Oh! Hello, Mr. France! What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Sealand~ What 'ave you been up to?" France asked, completely ignoring the boys question.

"Not much," Sealand moped, "As soon as I got here, England sent me up here. I'm bored!"

"Aw, that is too bad," said France, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "So your Christmas Eve 'as not been so fantastique?"

"Nope," Sealand replied, "Jerkland wouldn't even tell me why we're here."

France chuckled. "Well, I hope your Christmas Day is better. Speaking of which, a...friend of mine told me that you might like to see this." France pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to the child.

Sealand opened it curiously and pulled out its contents. He was shocked by what he saw; three pictures, all of them of his older brother and America pressed together, kissing passionately.

"They kissed?!" Sealand exclaimed.

"Oui, at the party last night," France said. "I don't think I've ever seen Angleterre so 'appy...Actually, allow me to rephrase that; I don't think I've ever seen Angleterre 'appy before."

Sealand couldn't stop smiling. "B-but, how did you know?!"

"I told you. A friend of mine told me~" France said.

"You're friends with Santa Claus?!" Sealand asked, astounded.

"Oui, he and I are...very close. Almost the same person, in fact," France laughed. He figured that Sealand would probably understand when he was older.

"Thank you, Mr. France! This was the best present ever!"

"You're welcome, Sealand~" France said, "Now, I must be leaving. Have a wonderful Christmas."

France exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Francis?"

France turned around. He was pleased to once again encounter his favorite Canadian. "Oh! Mathieu~"

"Uh, Francis, are you alright?" Canada asked.

"Of course! Why would I not be?~"

"Well, last night when we found you outside in the snow, you kinda looked like you were dying..."

"Uh...I am fine, now. So, you're staying here with Amerique, Angleterre, and Sealand for Christmas?"

"Yeah. I was actually just about to go buy a present for Sealand. I wish I'd known earlier. It's the day before Christmas so the stores are going to be completely packed," Canada said.

"Just be careful. I would not want you to get trampled by an angry mob of Americans pepper-spraying each other for an Xbox."

Canada laughed, "I think I'll be fine."

"You better be~ Adieu, Mathieu~"

France was about to leave when he felt Canada grab his arm. He was surprised. Normally, Canada wouldn't be so...direct.

"Um, Francis. W-wait."

"Hmm? What is it?" France asked.

"Are you, um...spending Christmas with Italy and Romano?"

France smirked slightly, understanding what Canada was _really _asking him.

"Non. Feli and Lovi are going to be with Tonio and Germany. So I'll be all alone..." he answered melodramatically. Technically, Italy _had _invited him, but he decided to leave that little detail out.

"Oh," Canada said, "D-do you want to stay here then?"

"I would love to, Mathieu!~ But, I do not think Angleterre will be very 'appy. And this is Amerique's house, after all. It should be up to him."

"Yeah, but...I wanted..." Canada trailed off.

"Ah, you want to spend Christmas with moi, mon ami?"

Canada nodded. "Is that...okay?"

"Of course, Mathieu," France said. He put an arm around Canada's shoulder. "Maybe, tomorrow, after you are done here, you and I can spend the day together."

Canada nodded again, "Yeah. That sounds good."

"Honhonhon~ So it's a date?~"

"D-date!?"

"Oui, it'll be fun~" France took Canada's hand and kissed it. Canada's face flushed red. "I will pick you up, of course. Call me when you are ready!~" He paused at the top of the stairs to see if the younger male would respond.

"Okay." Canada smiled shyly. ""I'm looking forward to it."

"We'll 'ave a good time. I promise."

France winked, waved, and then departed to the first floor. Halfway down the stairs, he thought he could hear the sounds of "l'amour" coming from the living room, but was disappointed when he entered the room to find that it was actually just England groaning from the effort of attempting to push America off of him.

"Alfred! Stop it!" England sounded angry, though a smile had broken out on his face.

"Hahaha! But Iggy, you're so cute!~ Let me love you!"

France felt a bit deflated at realizing that he wouldn't be seeing any sensuous exchanges of Anglo-American diplomatic relations. "Unbelievable! You two are finally together but you still act like idiots!"

England was surprised to see France there. America didn't even seem to notice, continuing to assault England's face and neck with kisses.

"France, when the hell did you get here?!" England asked.

"Like eight minutes ago."

America finally looked up. "Wait...how did you get in my house?"

"Mathieu forgot to lock the back door again after you all...you know, found me outside. Anyway, I'm glad to see that the 'appy couple is doing well, so I'll be on my way~"

"Not so fast," England chided, "Why are you here?"

"Why do you always assume that I am up to no good, Angleterre? I was just saying hello to Mathieu and wishing him a merry Christmas. Speaking of which, I almost forgot. Joyeux Noël!" He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to America, who caught it in one hand.

America glanced down at the object, smirked, and set it aside out of England's view. England craned his neck to see what it was and was immediately embarrassed; it was, unsurprisingly considering it was from France, a brand new bottle of lubricant.

"I just thought maybe you would be needing that. Au revoir~" France bid them farewell before giddily vacating the premises.

England snorted. "I don't know what just happened, but I don't really care." He snuggled closer to America, closing his eyes. "Mmm. It's getting late. I'm tired..."

America pulled England into his lap. "I love you, Arthur."

England felt a small amount of satisfaction at the fact that America finally addressed him as "Arthur" and not by his country name or some ridiculous nickname. He gave America a featherlight kiss on the cheek. "And _I_ love _you_, darling."

Neither noticed Sealand watching from the doorway. The boy looked joyous. His big brother finally looked happy: happy to have someone special in his life, especially someone that his heart had ached for for so unbearably long. Sealand had never understood "love". He had always though of it as two adults moving their stuck together faces like someone had done a poor job of gluing their mouths to each other, and the idea of having a significant other seemed just about as appealing as such. But now, seeing how someone can hold another human being so close to their heart and the passion with which that person could cherish the object of their affection...he understood now.

He tiptoed away from the doorway, breathing a sigh of relief when he managed to get out of sight without either of them noticing him. He was about to pick up his walking speed when he suddenly heard his brother loudly curse.

"Shit!"

Sealand froze. Had England heard him?

"I just realized something!" Sealand heard England say through the wall, "I never got Peter a Christmas present! I completely forgot!"

"It's nine o'clock. We still got three hours 'til midnight," America reminded him.

"Christmas shopping at 9 P.M. on Christmas Eve!?...ugh, go start the damn car."

Sealand suppressed a giggle. They didn't realize that they'd already given him the best present he could ever ask for.

* * *

**Whew. I finally got that done. Thank you for reading! **


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